


look out sunshine!

by mrsenjolras



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Pining, louis & niall make vague appearances, this is mostly fluff ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsenjolras/pseuds/mrsenjolras
Summary: That first day, he was wearing glasses and a shirt that said “Women are smarter.” He was bent over a book when Liam walked in, brow furrowed as he looked at the text, and he startled when Liam gently cleared his throat. He straightened, and Liam was graced with the full view of his lanky body, along with the nametag on his chest. Harry. He smiled lazily at Liam, asked him in a slow, deep voice what he would like, and Liam was gone.[Or: the businessman!Liam/student!Harry AU for Lenka]





	look out sunshine!

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again lol. this is dedicated to my tinhat partner lenka, love u forever. thanks to justine for the quick beta.
> 
> visuals to accompany this fic found [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com/post/162410313526/businessman-liamstudent-harry-i-am-aroused)
> 
> title from the song by the fratellis

“I’m going for a coffee, you want anything?” Liam asks, poking his head into the living room where Louis’ sat on the couch. 

“No, actually,” Louis responds, head lolling back to face Liam. “Seeing as we have a perfectly good coffee machine here. And you’re going to spend so long ogling the boy behind the counter that it’ll be frozen by the time you get back anyway.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam responds, already grabbing his coat and heading to the door. 

“Try asking him out this time!” Louis calls back, and Liam slams the door shut on his way out. 

*

Louis is, as much as Liam hates to admit it, a little bit right on this issue. The coffee shop is a bit out of the way, one Liam stumbled upon one day looking for shelter from a sudden downpour that hit him on the walk back from the office. It’s small and cozy, more set up for uni students and hipsters than businessmen like Liam, but the decor wasn’t what attracted Liam’s attention. No, it was the boy behind the counter that kept Liam having to budget a lot more for coffee than he ever did before. 

That first day, he was wearing glasses and a shirt that said “Women are smarter.” He was bent over a book when Liam walked in, brow furrowed as he looked at the text, and he startled when Liam gently cleared his throat. He straightened, and Liam was graced with the full view of his lanky body, along with the nametag on his chest. _Harry_. He smiled lazily at Liam, asked him in a slow, deep voice what he would like, and Liam was gone. 

Since that day, Liam has made it habit to come into the shop twice a week on his lunch break and at least once on the weekend. Louis was confused at first, until he tagged along with Liam one Saturday and Liam spent most of the time they were there watching Harry behind the counter from their table in the corner. Louis has been laughing at him ever since and sending him text messages at random points in the day with increasingly inappropriate suggestions for how he could see if Harry’s interested.

It’s not that Liam doesn’t want to know if Harry’s interested, in fact he wants to know very much because he’s been hung up on this boy for almost six months with no real progress, and he could really cut down on his caffeine intake. It’s just that Harry’s different from everyone else he’s dated, everyone else he’s ever been interested in, really, and he doesn’t know what Harry would see in him. 

Harry still in school, for one, studying music and gender studies. He’s in his final year and working on some type of thesis or dissertation or _something_ that Liam never understands, despite the amount of times Harry’s told him about it while making coffee for other customers, Liam sat at his standard place at the bar so he can talk to Harry and _not_ watch exactly how his hands move on the coffee machines, no matter what Louis says. Liam might only be three years out from graduating, but he’s worked his way up quickly at the marketing company he works for, so he’s in a very different position than he was in uni, living off pot noodles and shitty takeaway. He and Louis have even moved into a real flat, a big improvement from the one they lived in for the last two years of uni with its shoddy heat and questionable stains in the bathroom. And while Liam loves music, they figured out pretty quickly that his love of Drake and Kendrick doesn’t really mesh with Harry, who can’t go a day without listening to Bowie and who can usually be found wearing a t-shirt from some obscure 70s rock band. Harry is just endlessly interesting to Liam, with his deep voice and rambly way of speaking, the countless rings he twists around his fingers when he’s not making coffee, the way his lips move when he’s singing along to the radio or mouthing out a particularly difficult sentence in his reading. 

Liam could sit and watch Harry for hours--has done, in fact. And he knows that there’s no way Harry would go for someone like him in his business suits and boring nine-to-five and sort of bland personality. So Liam goes to the coffee shop far too much and spends hideous amounts of money and pines and pines, and Louis laughs at him, and Harry remains oblivious to all of it. 

*

When Liam walks into the shop, Harry’s behind the counter as usual, oversized sweater sleeves falling over his hands as he pushes his hair out of the way, eyes trained on the book in front of him. Liam takes his standard place, waiting patiently for Harry to finish his paragraph. Liam had figured out about the fourth or fifth time he came in that when Harry reads he’s fully focused, and breaking that focus comes at your own risk. Liam’s been given his coffee without milk or sugar one too many times to try it again. 

The cafe is mostly empty, a few tired-eyed students in the corner studying--”midterms are coming up,” Harry had said the last time Liam came in, when he had asked about the more pronounced bags under Harry’s eyes--and a couple at the table by the window who are wrapped up in each other. Liam lets his eyes linger on them for a second, feeling a slight pang of longing for what they have, before he pushes the feeling down and turns back to Harry, who’s straightening from the hunch he was in to read the book. He smiles at Liam, stretching a bit. 

“Want the usual?” he asks, voice that same gravelly tone that hooked Liam all those months ago. 

“Yeah, and gimme one of them muffins, too.”

Harry smiles at him, sticking one of the double chocolate muffins on a small plate and sliding it across the counter before getting to work on Liam’s coffee. Liam focuses on unwrapping the muffin carefully so he doesn’t stare at Harry’s hands as they expertly work the coffee machine. “That’s your third muffin this week, Liam,” Harry says, voice teasing. 

“Well if you didn’t make them so bloody good, I wouldn’t be eating so many of them, and then I wouldn’t have to extend my morning run to burn off the extra calories,” Liam grumbles, but he notes the way Harry pinks a little at the comment. Harry had let slip that he baked a lot of the cafe’s treats after the fifth time Liam had bitten into a cookie or scone or muffin with a frankly embarrassing moan. “What are you reading today?” Liam asks.

“Judith Butler, again,” Harry responds as he pours the milk into Liam’s latte, styling the milk so it forms a little heart on the top of the mug. “I think I’m finally starting to understand her.”

Liam has no idea who Judith Butler is or what she does, but he never really knows much about what Harry’s studying. He still likes to listen to him talk about it, though, so he asks, “what’s she write about?”

“It’s like, gender is performative, right? So like if you perform traits of a male ritually then you are a male. But she doesn’t think that you can choose what you perform, it’s like, all about how you’re perceived, and how your culture influences that. Which means there are different ideas of what’s considered masculine and what’s considered feminine.”

“Like kilts,” Liam says, flushing a bit when Harry looks at him curiously. Usually, Liam’s comments during these discussions are limited to hums and maybe a curious ‘oh?’ “You know, lots of people see a kilt and think ‘oh, there’s a bloke in a skirt’ but they’re actually seen as quite masculine in the traditional culture.”

“Yes, Liam, exactly like kilts. See, we’ll make a gender theorist of you yet!” Harry says, reaching over and ruffling Liam’s hair. Liam laughs and bats him away. 

“Think I’ll leave that to you and Judy,” he says, but he still flushes a bit at the look Harry gives him. 

“What about you? How’s work? You’re, like, the only person I know with an office job besides my parents.”

“Oh, that doesn’t make me feel old,” Liam says, laughing when Harry’s eyes go wide. “It’s fine. Work’s good. They’ve just got a big new client in and they’re putting me as lead on the team, which’ll mean a lot more work, but it’s the first time they’ve given me a lead position, so that’s good.”

“That’s great, Liam,” Harry says genuinely, reaching over to squeeze at Liam’s wrist. “Really, you’re going to smash it.”

Liam meets Harry’s eyes and suddenly realizes how close they are, both leaned mostly over the counter. He bites his lip, and he swears he sees Harry’s eyes drop to his mouth as he licks his own lips. Liam can hear Louis’ voice in the back of his head telling him to do it now, ask him out, and Liam’s halfway to opening his mouth when the bell over the door rings, signaling a customer. Harry jumps back, startled, and turns to the customers walking through the door, avoiding Liam’s gaze. 

Liam sighs, shaking his head and taking a sip of his coffee. _That’s that_ , he thinks. _If he were really interested he wouldn’t be jumping away like I burned him_. He looks at Harry, smiling brightly at the customer in front of him, and knows that there’s no way Harry would ever feel the same way as Liam does. 

*

Liam doesn’t see Harry for a whole week after that, but it’s not as though he’s avoiding him--he doesn’t really see anybody, not even Louis. The new client at the firm wants a completely new marketing strategy, and they gave a ridiculously short deadline, so Liam and his team work around the clock to make up a proposal. Liam especially grinds himself down, desperately wanting to prove that his bosses can trust him with more responsibility. He skips lunch most of the week, grabbing a sandwich from one of his coworkers if they went out but more often than not getting by on snacks from the vending machine, and works so late every day that Louis is usually in bed by the time he gets home and still asleep when he gets up the next morning. He’s completely burnt out by Friday when they finally finish the proposal, ready for the presentation on Monday. Liam’s boss is so pleased with his work that she gives Liam the afternoon off, and though Liam is dying to just head home and sleep for the next 48 hours, he makes a stop at the cafe to see Harry. 

When he walks in he’s faced with a similar scene to the last time, only Harry’s forgone the book this time, simply slumped over the counter with his face resting on his hand, bored expression on his face. The expression changes when Liam walks in the door, first to happiness, then immediately to worry as he takes in Liam’s exhaustion. 

“Jesus, Liam,” he says, rushing around the counter to him. “What happened? C’mon, sit down, are you sick or something?” Harry asks, putting a hand to Liam’s forehead to check his temperature. Liam laughs, hoping Harry ignores the flush on his cheeks simply from Harry touching him innocently. 

“I’m fine, fine. You know that big project I told you about? I’ve been working like a dog all week to finish it. My boss let me out early for the day because I think she thought I was about to pass out in the office,” Liam says, collapsing into the comfy armchair by the window and rubbing his palms over his eyes. Harry sits on the arm of the chair, running a hand back and forth over Liam’s hair soothingly. Liam tries to ignore the way Harry’s hands on him make him feel but can’t help himself from sinking further into the chair and Harry’s touch.

“You look exhausted, Li,” Harry says softly, and he’s never called Liam that before. “You should be in bed.”

“Wanted to see you,” Liam mumbles, already feeling half asleep in the warmth of the coffee shop and Harry’s touch. 

“Oh, I, uh,” Harry clears his throat. “Did you want your usual, then? I, uh, made banana blueberry muffins today, if you’d like?” Liam just hums, resting his head against the back of the chair. Harry clears his throat again and gets up, and Liam immediately misses the warmth at his side. He refuses to say he dozes off, but when Harry returns with his drink and muffin, the sound of the plates hitting the table jolts him up. He runs a hand against his mouth, smiling sheepishly when he looks up at Harry. 

“Sorry,” he says, and Harry looks at him with a calculating look in his eye. 

“Right. You’re not having this,” he says, gesturing at the coffee on the table.

“What? Why not?” Liam asks, because if there’s one time he could really use the caffeine, it’s now. 

“You’re dead on your feet, Liam. I’d be surprised if you’ve gotten more than four hours of sleep a night this week,” he says with a sharp look, and Liam can’t even protest that because he’s not exactly _wrong_. “You don’t need more caffeine. Come into the back, we have a couch there, you can take a nap for a bit. I’ll wake you up at the end of my shift.”

Liam opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get any words out he yawns, and Harry just raises an eyebrow at him. “Alright,” he huffs out on a laugh. “Fine.” He stands slowly and follows Harry back behind the counter and into the back room. He’d never been in the back of the coffee shop before, and he’s not sure what he was expecting, but he’s greeted with a pretty standard room: a couple worktops, some ovens, the door to what is probably a walk-in freezer, and shelves full of extra stock. A small couch has been shoved against one wall, next to a little table and a lone chair, obviously set out for employees to relax during breaks or slow shifts. Harry moves forward, sweeping a messenger bag and a jacket off the couch and dumping them both on the table before gesturing towards the couch with a semi-ironic ‘ta-da’ motion. Liam snorts, nods appreciatively, and lays out on the cushions, immediately sighing out in pleasure when he sinks into them. He vaguely hears Harry say something about waking him in a bit, but he’s already most of the way asleep.

*

He wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, a voice calling his name softly. He blinks his eyes open and comes face to face with Harry, who’s smiling gently at him. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Hi,” Liam rasps, voice rough with sleep. “Time’sit?”

“Just gone four,” Harry replies. “My shift just ended, thought it would be best if I didn’t leave you here to sleep all night.”

Liam laughs a bit. “Yeah, thanks, mate,” he says, standing up and stretching, groaning in satisfaction when his joints crack back into place. “That couch is dead comfortable.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Harry pauses, clears his throat, “I like to nap there on my breaks,” he finishes with a wry smile. He busies himself with putting on his coat and slinging his bag over his shoulder, topping the look off by shoving a bright pink beanie on over his curls. Liam snorts at him, knocking into his shoulder a bit when they both walk towards the door. They slip out from behind the counter, Harry tossing a wave at the girl working, before they step outside and pause a bit awkwardly just outside. 

“Thanks for letting me crash,” Liam says, rubbing at the back of his neck. Harry waves him off, mumbling something about it being nothing, and shuffles his feet. It looks like he’s getting ready to say goodbye, and something in Liam’s chest goes tight at the prospect. He doesn’t want Harry to leave, doesn’t want to watch him walk away, and before he can stop himself his mouth is opening again. “Hey, do you live near here? I’ll walk you home.”

Harry blinks at him, a bit shocked. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got a flat near the university. But you don’t need to do that, Liam,” he protests softly.

“Sure, I do,” Liam says, committed to the offer now that he’s made it. “After all the the free coffee you’ve given me, it’s the least I can do.”

Harry smiles a bit, nodding, and if Liam isn’t mistaken his cheeks look a little pink, but he turns away before Liam can get a good look. “It’s this way,” Harry says, and starts off down the street, leaving Liam to jog after him a bit to catch up. They walk a few blocks in silence, Liam sneaking glances at Harry every once in awhile and, once, he catches Harry glancing back at him. He giggles a bit when their eyes meet.

“How's school going?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Good, yeah,” Harry says, turning slightly to shoot Liam a smile. “I met with my advisors the other day and they're really happy with my progress on my thesis.”

“That's great, Hazza,” Liam says, smiling widely and leaning over to bump their shoulders together. He laughs loudly when Harry nearly topples over, reaching over to grab his elbow. Harry sends him a disgruntled look, sniffing a bit as he rights himself. 

“Excuse me, Liam, please contain yourself,” he says huffily, and Liam laughs again. 

“Sorry,” he says, but he's still grinning, hand still resting on Harry's arm. He feels giddy, and he's not sure if it's from his exhaustion or Harry's presence or both. He just knows that he could extend this walk forever, just keep going and going and never having to lose Harry’s company. 

But Liam doesn't get his wish, and soon enough Harry is slowing to a stop in front of a block of flats. “This is, uh, this is me,” he says, jerking a thumb back at the building. Liam glances at it, taking in the slightly rundown exterior; it's not dissimilar to the flat Liam himself lived in back in uni. He looks back at Harry, who's shuffling a bit on his feet. “Listen, um, next weekend I'm going to be performing at an open mic with a few of my mates. It’s not a really big deal, you know, just at a pub, but I'm going to be singing some of my songs, and like, if you want, and if you're not busy, since, you know--”

“Harry,” Liam interrupts with a smile. “I'd love to come.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes out, looking a bit surprised before his face splits into a breathtaking smile. “Great! I'll let you know the details when I see you next. Or, actually, give me your phone.” Liam hands it to him, too stunned by the strength of Harry's smile to question him. Harry taps at the screen for a minute before handing it back to Liam. “I texted myself already, so I'll send you the info, okay?” and he pulls Liam in for a quick hug before he disappears into the door behind him, leaving Liam stood on the pavement outside wondering what exactly just happened.

He looks down at his phone, sees the little _**Harry**_ followed by the coffee cup emoji, and huffs out a little laugh. He has a bounce in his step for the whole walk home.

*

“Hey,” Louis calls when he walks in the door. “What's got you smiling so big?”

“Saw Harry,” Liam says, and Louis rolls his eyes. “Got his number.”

“You _what_?” Louis says, and Liam laughs at the shocked look on his face. “Get in, Payno! Go on, text him now.”

“What?” Liam asks. “No, no, I can't do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Louis asks, confused. “He gave you his number for a reason, yeah?” 

Liam pulls out his phone and unlocks it, Harry's contact still left up on the screen. He stares at it for a second. “I don't know, I'm not sure what I would even say,” he looks up at Louis, who is just looking back at him incredulously. Then, suddenly, Louis reaches out and snatches Liam's phone right out of his palm. 

“I'll do it, then,” he says, fingers moving rapidly across the screen.

“Louis, no!” Liam says, diving across the couch to try to grab his phone back. Liam’s stronger, but Louis is squirrelly, and he squirms away, holding the phone out with his arms fully extended off the arm of the couch. He taps for a second longer as Liam tries to grab the phone out of his hands before pressing down with finality, and the _whoosh_ of a sent message echoes in the room. Louis sags down against the couch, Liam collapsing on top of him, and hands back the phone.

“There, what're you attacking me for?” he says, and Liam smacks a hand against the back of Louis’ head as he sits up, dreading reading whatever he's sent to Harry. When he looks down, though, the message just reads: _**hey mate, was great seeing u today**_ with a string of emojis that Liam can't fully comprehend tacked on at the end. “I do you a favor, and this is how you repay me,” Louis grumbles next to him, reaching up and rubbing at the back of his head. “I mean, I'm sparing him from exposure to your spelling, at least.”

Liam smacks him on the back of the head again.

*

He doesn’t stay mad at Louis for long, because a few days later Liam’s up late the night before his work presentation, texting Harry in a panic. He’s convinced they’re going to hate his ideas, and shoot them down so thoroughly that his bosses won’t see the point in keeping him and he’ll just get fired. Harry doesn’t seem to agree, and he doesn’t seem to mind the late hour either, because he just keeps texting Liam things like _**it’ll go great**_ and _**they’re gonna love you**_ and _**come by the shop after, i’ll give you something sweet as a reward xx**_ and though it’s clear Harry’s talking about some baked good in the last one, Liam still falls asleep thinking of Harry rewarding him with kisses. 

When he walks into the cafe the next day after a fairly successful presentation, he’s surprised to find it completely packed with people. It takes him aback a moment, used to the sleepy quiet of the coffee shop, the way Harry spends most of his shifts either studying or chatting to Liam. The store’s got its regulars, Liam chief among them, but part of its appeal is its hidden location, far enough from the university that most students can’t be bothered to walk and on a street that tourists never find. So Liam has no idea why it now looks like a Starbucks on Oxford Street. 

He fights his way through the crowd to the bar, where he can see Harry rushing around trying to fill everyone’s orders. There’s only one open seat at the bar, and it’s Liam’s usual. When he approaches it he can see there’s a sticky note stuck to the counter just in front of Liam’s stool, the word “reserved” written on it in Harry’s messy handwriting, a smiley face just under it. Liam laughs a little, taking the note off the counter and tucking it in his pocket before sitting down. Harry glances over at him, shooting him a distracted smile before turning back to the customers in front of him. There’s a slight lull after he gives them their coffees, and he walks over to Liam, collapsing over the counter in front of him with a groan.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, rubbing one hand up and down Harry’s forearm where it rests in front of him. 

“We got written up, some blog or something about hidden gems in London. Jade called me in this morning because she couldn’t handle the rush on her own, and Niall and Jesy both have class until four, so I’m stuck,” Harry sighs, and Liam hums sympathetically, still rubbing his arm. Harry lifts his head and rests his chin on his wrist, giving Liam a pathetic, kicked puppy look. Liam can’t help but laugh at him, ruffling his curls. A slow smile starts to spread on Harry’s face, but its progress is interrupted by a customer clearing their throat. 

“Excuse me,” the man says, American accent coming out thick in his voice. “Can we get some help?” Liam rolls his eyes at the obvious tourist, and Harry straightens from his slump over the counter and walks over to take their orders. The man still looks unhappy even as he shuffles with his wife over to a table. 

“Charming,” Liam mutters as soon as they’re out of earshot, and Harry laughs, the big, barking one he does sometimes when Liam says something he finds particularly funny. He bites his lip, shooting Liam a look as he finishes up the drinks, calling them out. 

“One caramel macchiato and one vanilla latte,” he calls, waiting for the man to come back up to the counter to collect them. 

“Does this have an extra shot?” the man asks bluntly when he steps back up to Harry.

“Sorry?”

“I _said_ , does this have an extra shot of espresso, like I asked for?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I must’ve forgotten--” Harry starts, but the man cuts him off. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you forgot, you were too busy making out with your boyfriend over there to serve your customers,” the man explodes, throwing an arm out to gesture to where Liam’s sitting. Harry takes a step back, stunned. 

“Oi, mate, back off,” Liam says, aware that other customers are now beginning to pay attention. 

“Why should I? The boy can’t even make a goddamn cup of coffee right,” the man shoots back, and Harry flinches at his words. Liam stands up, walking over until he’s face to face with the man, who’s a bit shorter than him. Liam looks down at him and starts to speak, as slowly and calmly as he can manage. 

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell makes you think you can talk to another person like that, but I’m not gonna stand here and watch it. Maybe in America you can treat people like shit and make a big fuss so some twat of a manager comes out and gives you free drinks and wipes your ass for you, but it’s not gonna happen here. So you can either take the drinks that he made for you, after he’s been busting his ass for hour here making coffee for everyone in here, or you can leave, but what you’re not going to do is continue to harass my friend in his place of work, alright?”

The man huffs a little, gaze shifting between Liam and Harry, before he grabs his wife’s hand and walks out the door. The other customers watch him walk out before turning to each other and conversation picks up again. Liam focuses on Harry, who’s still stood behind the counter staring at Liam with an awed look on his face. 

“You okay?” Liam asks quietly, and Harry just nods, shocked look still on his face.

“Yeah, I--” he cuts himself off with a deep breath and Liam watches as he composes himself again, never one to look too vulnerable in front of others. “Just fine, Li. You want a free coffee?” he asks, pushing one of the leftover drinks on the counter towards Liam. 

Liam laughs. “Sure, thanks, mate,” he says, grabbing the cup off the counter and taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

Harry beams at the compliment, running a hand through his hair and tousling his curls a bit. “Oh!” he says suddenly. “I completely forgot, how did the meeting go?” He looks genuinely interested, and Liam wonders for a moment what exactly could intrigue Harry so much about a marketing presentation meeting.

“Well,” Liam says. “It went really well. They really liked the ideas we had.”

“That’s amazing!” Harry says, enthusiastic, and he reaches over the counter to pull Liam into a hug. Liam’s not sure what to do, arms awkwardly hanging at his sides as the counter digs uncomfortably into his waist. Harry smacks a kiss on Liam’s cheek before pulling back, and Liam can feel his cheeks heat, though he manages to resist the urge to bring a hand up to rest over where Harry’s lips touched him. 

Harry’s still smiling at him, biting his lip slightly, and Liam resigns himself to the fact that he is well and truly fucked.

*

Four days later and Liam’s fighting his way through Friday night crowds on the tube to get to the little hole in the wall pub for Harry’s open mic performance. He’d been held up at work with no time to go home and change, so he's still in his blazer and slacks and feels hideously overdressed when he steps in the door and finds himself surrounded by people dressed in flannels and tight jeans. It doesn't help that he’d run out of contact lenses so he's forced to wear his glasses and probably looks like an old stuffy professor. He feels awkward and out of place, and he can't see Harry anywhere, so he goes and gets himself a beer before seating himself at a table near the back.

He hears a bit of microphone feedback and then a guitar tuning, and looks over at the makeshift stage in the corner. He sees Harry standing there, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder and hand tangled in his curls. He’s smiling at something the boy standing next to him holding a guitar-- _Niall_ , Liam remembers, who also works at the coffee shop--says, but Liam can tell even from his spot across the room that Harry is paler than usual. 

He’s nervous. Liam knows this, because he’s been told all about it through conversations at the cafe and late-night texts. He knows that Harry had focused on the theory side of his music major because he suffers from stage fright, that this was the first time he was performing in front of people who weren’t close friends and family since he was about 16, and added on top of all of that is the fact that he’s singing original songs tonight, so Harry’s been a big ball of nerves for days now. 

Liam’s excited, though. Louis’ been making fun of him all week for the way he’s been bouncing around, counting the hours until Friday rolled around. It’s the first time they’re spending any time around each other outside of the coffee shop, and Liam had spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time at work staring out of the window and wondering what exactly this meant for their relationship. He doesn’t know if it _does_ mean anything, other than that Harry thinks of him as a good enough friend to invite him to something like this, and that’s enough to have a warm feeling spreading in his stomach anyway.

Harry steps up to the mic and clears his throat, and the crowd hushes down. “Hello,” he starts, and then pauses to clear his throat. His eyes scan the crowd for a second before locking on Liam’s. Liam sends him a smile and a little nod, and Harry smiles back and leans back into the mic. His voice comes out more confidently when he says, “I’m Harry, this here is Niall, and we’re going to play a few songs for you, if that’s alright.” There a smattering of applause in the crowd, a few cheers from a table that must be Harry’s friends from uni. Harry ducks his head and nods over at Niall, who starts strumming on the guitar slowly. Harry waits a few bars before he takes a breath, leans into the mic, and starts to sing. 

Liam leans forward, resting his chin on his hand and allows himself to be mesmerized by the sound of Harry’s voice. It’s low, deep, and a bit raspy, but Liam loves it and wants to hear it every day. He listens as Harry sings, a slow, melancholic song about seeing an ex months after a relationship ends, and wraps himself up in the feeling of Harry’s voice. 

Harry keeps his eyes closed for most of the song, bobbing his head along to the music, but just before the final chorus he opens his eyes and looks right at Liam. It’s so sudden that Liam nearly startles, but he keeps his gaze steady with Harry’s until the song ends and the pub breaks into applause. Harry smiles, tearing his eyes away from Liam’s to look over at Niall and say something about the next song. 

Harry plays about three more songs, Liam paying rapt attention for all of them. Harry plays to the whole crowd, smiling at the people bobbing their heads and shaking his head towards the booth of what must be his mates, but at least once every song he makes eye contact with Liam, and Liam is always looking back at him. If he’s being honest, there could be an elephant standing next to him and he wouldn’t be able to look away from the way Harry curls his hands--half covered by the sleeves of his sweater--around the mic. 

When Harry finishes his set, bowing his head sheepishly as the crowd applauds, Liam claps long and hard. He’s still clapping when Harry stands, saying something to Niall quickly before walking straight towards Liam’s table. Liam stops clapping, reaching for his lukewarm beer to do something with his hands and try to distract himself from the determined look on Harry’s face as he moves through the crowd.

“Liam,” he says when he reaches Liam’s spot, grin breaking out on his face. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course, Harry, I wouldn’t have missed it,” Liam replies, and he’s not talking out of his ass like the time Brad from the office invited him to his improv show and Liam felt like stabbing his eyes out with a cocktail straw. Liam would have sat for hours longer listening to Harry sing, and at the end of those hours he probably would’ve wanted more time. “You were amazing up there, really.”

“Thanks, Li,” Harry says, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. He tosses a look over to his shoulder, towards the booth where his friends are sitting, most of them sending curious looks their way. “Listen, you want to meet some of my mates? I’ll buy you another beer, too.”

“Well, if you’re gonna buy me a drink,” Liam says, standing and following Harry when he moves back across the bar. They come to the stop in front of the booth, and Harry gestures between the people sitting and Liam.

“Everybody, this is Liam. Liam, this is everybody,” he says, and one of the blokes sitting down perks up.

“Ah, the famous Liam!” he says. “We’ve heard lots about you.”

“Shut up, Nick,” Harry says, but his cheeks are a bit pink. He shoves at the people sitting closest to the edge of the booth until they move over enough for Harry and Liam to fit on the bench. Liam ends up squeezed onto the edge of the seat, half hanging off, and his left arm is pressed tight up against Harry’s right. He pulls it out and rests it on the back of the bench behind Harry’s head, and Harry shoots him a quick smile before turning to his friends and asking what they thought of his set. Liam sits back and watches.

Harry’s friends are loud, and are capable of holding a million conversations at once, all about topics that Liam doesn’t understand. He chats a bit with Niall about sport, discovers that he likes golf quite a bit more than Liam thought any uni student did, but soon enough Niall is drawn into conversation by someone else, and Liam sips at his beer and observes once more. 

Though Liam struggles to follow all the different conversations happening simultaneously around the table, Harry has no such difficulty, and switches between people seamlessly, always picking up the thread of conversation with ease. It’s mesmerizing to watch, as Liam is realizing everything about Harry is to him. After Harry’s caught up enough with his mates--and after they’ve all showered the appropriate praise on him--he turns back to Liam. Harry had taken sips from the drinks of everyone at the table, so his eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly flushed when he leans into Liam to speak.

“These are new,” he says, reaching up and fiddling with Liam’s glasses slightly. “I like them.”

“Thanks,” Liam says. “Ran out of contacts, so.” Harry is very close to him. Liam doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Hm. You are a man of many layers, Liam Payne,” Harry says, and it startles a laugh out of Liam. 

“I don’t think that’s true. I’m just me.”

“No,” Harry says a bit petulantly, his voice slowed down by drink. “Like, during the day you’re all buttoned up,” he gestures towards Liam’s blazer, “but you’re also like, this total athletic freak and sometimes you come to the shop right after the gym and your arms are really, really nice, Liam. And you told me you didn’t really understand the things I’m studying, but you always listen to me when I ramble about it, and you’ve never told me I’m an idiot for studying useless things. You’re a really good person,” Harry finishes, and Liam smiles. 

“Thanks, Haz.”

“And I think you should take me home,” Harry says, and Liam’s eyes widen.

“Now? Don’t you want to talk some more with your friends?” Liam asks, unsure of what exactly Harry’s asking of him. 

Harry’s grin turns a bit wolfish, and the hand that had lingered near Liam’s glasses moves, fingers running across the line of Liam’s jaw and thumb pulling a bit at Liam’s lower lip. “Yeah, now,” Harry’s voice comes out gravelly, and Liam’s breath hitches.

“Okay, alright, yeah, let’s go now,” he rambles, practically falling out of the booth as he stands, Harry following behind him with a laugh. He grabs Liam’s hand, shouting out a quick goodbye to his friends and dragging Liam out of the pub, the booth exploding in catcalls behind them. Harry keeps tugging on his arm until they’re outside, but they come to a stop on the corner outside the pub. The cold air pricks at Liam’s skin, turns his breath into small clouds as it leaves his mouth. Harry turns to look at him, and his eyes are more focused now than they were in the pub. 

“Are you drunk?” he asks bluntly, and Liam blinks. 

“No, are you?”

“No,” Harry says, and then he turns and starts walking towards his flat, grip tight on Liam’s hand pulling him along. Liam just follows along, bemused, for the six blocks until they reach Harry’s flat, where he stops just before Harry pulls him inside.

“Harry, wait,” he says, tugging back on Harry’s hand, and Harry looks at him, curious. “Are you sure? Like, I don’t want you to regret--this.” He finished a bit awkwardly, gesturing between the two of them with his free hand. 

Harry smiles gently, stepping closer to Liam. “Liam,” he says. “I don’t know how you haven’t noticed before, but I have a massive crush on you. Like, visible from space. So I would really like it if you would let me take you upstairs and kiss you. I would do it here but it’s fucking freezing and I would like to actually feel my face when this is happening.”

Liam nods, stunned, and Harry grins before quickly unlocking the door and walking up the stairs quickly. He lives on the second floor, and when he stops in front of his door he undoes the two locks and then shoves at the door with his shoulder to get it open and then finally, _finally_ , they’re inside. Harry whirls around as soon as he’s inside, stepping forward and backing Liam up against the door. He stops when their lips are a breath apart, looking between Liam’s eyes and mouth for a moment before he smiles and ducks his head further, pressing his lips to Liam’s.

Liam is still for a moment, still getting his bearings despite everything Harry had said in the pub and outside his flat. There’s still a part of him that’s expecting Harry to pull away with a laugh, tell him he was just joking around, but then Harry sighs out against his mouth and tilts his head, and Liam is jolted into action. He lifts his hands, which had been hanging uselessly at his sides, and brings them to Harry’s waist, pulling him in even more so they’re pressed together fully. He finally starts to move his lips against Harry’s, causing Harry to let out a small noise in the back of his throat. Liam thinks that kissing Harry is intoxicating, that he feels dizzier now than he had after his two beers at the pub, that he could probably do this forever and not get tired of it. Eventually, though, the need for oxygen wins out, and he pulls back with one final nip at Harry’s bottom lip. 

Harry blinks his eyes open slowly after Liam moves away, and Liam smiles when Harry focuses on him. “Hey,” he says, leaning forward until their noses are brushing. “Guess what?”

“What?” Harry asks.

“ _I can’t feel my face when I’m with you_ ,” Liam croons out, and Harry looks a bit confused before he must remember their conversation outside, and then he breaks into that loud, honking laugh of his. 

He’s still laughing when Liam leans in for another kiss.

*

_6 months later_

Liam’s sat in one of the plush chairs in the coffee shop, messing about on his phone, when Harry bursts through the door. Liam looks up, surprised, since he’d barely seen his boyfriend for the past week as he powered through his exams and work on his thesis. Harry’s eyes lock on Liam and he makes a beeline for him, dropping down onto Liam’s lap once he reaches him.

“Hi, love,” Liam says quietly, taking in the greasy nature of Harry’s hair and the pronounced bags under his eyes. “How’s it going?”

Harry’s face breaks into a breathtaking smile, the same one that had caused Liam to fall for him. “I’m done,” he says. “I’m _done_.”

It takes Liam a second to figure out what Harry’s on about, but then it clicks and he feels his own smile split his face. “Really? Your thesis is done?”

“Totally done,” Harry says, still smiling big enough it must hurt. “Sent it off to my advisor and all.”

“Haz, I’m so proud of you!” Liam says, and he pulls Harry into a kiss. He keeps it short--though he would like it long, because really, he hasn't seen his boyfriend in a week. When they break apart, Harry has a look in his eye that Liam can't define.

“I love you,” Harry says softly. It's the first time either of them have said it, though Liam reckons he's felt it since about two weeks after they got together. Liam leans in for another kiss, this one gentler than the first.

“I love you, too,” he whispers when he pulls back, and Harry shoves him back into the seat and snogs him until Niall comes out from behind the counter and starts smacking them with a dish towel.

Sitting beneath Harry as he laughs, hair falling in his eyes when he looks at Liam with that same emotion in his eyes-- _love_ , Liam can place it now--Liam’s never felt happier.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com) and the fic post [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com/post/164381271076/look-out-sunshine)


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